


The Gates of Heaven

by thermal_equilibrium



Category: The Social Network (2010)
Genre: Fix-It, Judaism, M/M, Post-Canon, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-16 22:40:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29339943
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thermal_equilibrium/pseuds/thermal_equilibrium
Summary: The Jewish sages taught that on Rosh Hashanah, the Gates of Heaven opened for ten whole days. In these ten days true forgiveness is possible, from God and from one another. The tenth day is Yom Kippur, when the Book of Life is sealed.Eduardo and Mark happen to end up in New York together for those ten days. Will it be possible for them to forgive each other in time?
Relationships: Eduardo Saverin/Mark Zuckerberg
Comments: 5
Kudos: 10





	The Gates of Heaven

**Author's Note:**

> I have been planning this fic for two years now. All of the plot and dialogue is written, I just have to go through and add details, so the next chapter should come out soon!
> 
> Just so you know, this story depicts a complicated but generally positive view of Judaism. Although I am Jewish, not all views depicted are my own, as I hoped to portray some of the complicated relationships that people have to the religion. That being said, it's not mainly about religion, it's mainly about Mark and Eduardo falling in love (duh). 
> 
> ALSO you don't have to have any prior knowledge of Judaism to enjoy, though I will put explanations of some things in the end notes!

Eduardo wasn’t sure what made him do it, but after he checked in at his hotel in New York (some fancy place downtown that his assistant had booked), he went back out onto the street with no destination in mind.

Normally when he travelled for a conference, he would spend the first night perfecting his schedule, making sure that he had all of his lectures, lunch and dinner meetings, and events for the week balanced and planned to a T. Afterwards, he would call in room service for dinner, put the finishing touches on his presentations, and coordinate the first day step-by-step with his assistant.

But there was something about this evening, or maybe about the energy of New York City, that pulled Eduardo out of his routine. He was glad he had remembered to put on a coat when he left the airport. He couldn’t believe he’d let himself forget what the Northeast was like in September at night: crisp and lively, with the anticipation of winter just beginning to creep in. 

The city was bustling as usual, and all the lights and people blurred together as Eduardo kept walking, not stopping to look at any of the street signs or the names of the hotels and finance firms on the buildings he passed. It felt good to just keep going, no deadline to worry about except for the beating of his heart through his peacoat and his toes that were starting to freeze in his dress shoes. 

New York would never not remind Eduardo of that summer after sophomore year, racing from exec to exec, running up and down the length of Manhattan, on the subway all day every day. The heat was oppressive then, along with the pressure, and together they had cooked the Eduardo like the sidewalk until he had started steaming.

Eduardo swallowed and he could feel it going heavily down his throat. In a weird way New York would never not remind Eduardo of Mark. He didn’t think that much about him in Palo Alto, to be honest. But New York had the print, the negative space of Mark, stamped all over it. The city reminded Eduardo of everything Mark didn’t want to be or do. The old money, the old way of doing things, the crampedness, Mark’s family. Eduardo pushed the thoughts away.

 _It’s been 7 years_ , he thought. _Time to stop being pathetic and go back to he hotel,_

But just as he was about to turn around, an older building on the corner caught his attention. It sort of looked like an old church with abstract stained glass windows, and on a large sign in the front it said:

“Erev Rosh Hashanah Service TONIGHT at 7pm”

Eduardo saw a number of older-looking couples making their way inside, along with a few families dragging their small children. Talk about the old way of doing things. 

He looked at his watch. It was 7:30. 

What made him go inside the synagogue, he didn’t know, but when he got to the door, a nice-looking older lady handed him a book, gave a genuine although practiced smile, and said:

“Chag Sameach!”

Eduardo nodded, though he had no clue what she meant or what he was supposed to do with the book, but appreciated her warmth. He didn’t even know what Rosh Hashanah was or what it was about. 

When he got into the sanctuary, he sat down in a pew in the back. Did they call them pews? Was that offensive? As he settled in, some older woman Eduardo assumed was a Rabbi began the introduction: 

“Well, we’ve made it to another Rosh Hashanah. Another new New Year.” the Rabbi chuckled at himself. “As many of you know, but as it is always good to remind ourselves, Rosh Hashanah is a celebratory holiday but it is also so much _more_ than that. We celebrate tonight because the sages taught that just now, as the sun is setting on Rosh Hashanah, the Gates of Heaven open. God is open to us, open to hearing our prayers and our requests for forgiveness. And these Gates stay open for ten whole days, until Yom Kippur, when our fates are sealed in the Book of Life. This is a time to think deeply about what we have done wrong, and what we hope to do differently in the next year. And not just to ask God for forgiveness for those things, but more importantly, to ask forgiveness from one another. Because we cannot be truly freed from our wrongdoings until we have tried to achieve reconciliation with our fellow human beings”

The rabbi stepped down, and another woman came to front of the room and began singing — or was it chanting? — in Hebrew. He couldn’t understand it, so he just closed his eyes and listened. He let the syllables and melodies wrap and envelop him, tracing the flow of pitches, tempo, and volume in the darkness of his closed eyes. He let time just pass by, taking shaky breaths, hoping that it would never end. That is, until a woman’s voice with an expressive New York accent broke him out of his stupor. 

“Chag Sameach, young man!” 

Eduardo opened his eyes and saw a small older woman smiling kindly but slyly at him. He tried his best to pull himself together. 

“Umm… yes, you as well.”

The woman didn’t seemed phased by his obvious confusion.

“What is a handsome young man like you doing all alone at Rosh Hashanah?”

Eduardo looked down a bit flustered. 

“Well, umm... I wasn’t really planning on coming. I was just walking past outside, and saw the signs, and well… here I am.” The story sounded stupid when he told it, but it was the truth. 

“Oh my goodness!” she cried. “God really does work in mysterious ways.”

“I guess, I mean —”

She cut him off. “Does that mean you don’t have a place for Rosh Hashanah dinner?”

“Oh, I’m probably just going to go back to the hotel.”

“Hotel?” she asked. “No, no that won’t do at all. You _have_ to come over for dinner, I insist!”

“That’s very kind of you —”

“It’s not Rosh Hashanah without a proper dinner. I have soup, there’s fish, there’s brisket, there’s apples and honey, and Karen is bringing cream cheese kugel.”  
“I couldn’t possibly —”

“I live five blocks away, so it’s not far, and a respectable young man like you is welcome to stay the night if you like. I keep a spare bedroom for my kids when they come into town. And there’s plenty of food! No, no, I insist you come.”

Eduardo knew he could probably come up with some kind of excuse, but he _had_ been telling himself he needed to be more adventurous. Going to a climbing gym or trying Eithiopian food was more what he had in mind, but hey. 

“Okay, then.”

“Wonderful! What’s your name, young man?”  
“Eduardo.”

“Eduardo,” she repeated, slowly rolling his name in her mouth. “Well, Eduardo, my name is Esther.” Then she leaned in close, eyes glistening, and whispered: “Let’s get out of here before someone else tries to steal you for their Rosh Hashanah Dinner, alright?”

And then she took off faster than Eduardo thought someone her age could ever go, and he followed along. 

One taxi ride and life-story story later (“Eduardo, dear, a piece of advice: _never_ let your daughter marry a jewelry man. They’re corrupt, every one of them.”) they ended up in a beautiful Upper East side apartment building. The granite facade, the delicately crafted sconces, the detailed molding, all screamed old New York. Esther’s small frame bustled through it all like she didn’t even notice, instead rifling through her black leather purse for her “goshdang keychain.” 

When they got inside the apartment, Eduardo was immediately in sensory overload. He could hear the sounds of older people chattering away, and the smell — cooking meats, rosemary, garlic and onion, and other ones he couldn’t quite place.  
“It smells fantastic in here.” he told Esther, politely. 

She gave him a pat on his elbow where she could reach. “Thank you dear. Go sit down at the table. I have to make sure no one burned anything in my absence” And with that, she ambled with purpose into the kitchen, yelling into the apartment as she did, “Chag Sameach everybody! I brought in a stray for tonight. His name is Eduardo.”

Eduardo hears an older gentleman yell back from another room, “His name is _what?”_

“EdWAHRDoh!” Esther exaggerated. “You need to get your _ears_ checked again, Norm.”

“I don’t know what you’re _talking_ about Essie, my beard is fine the way it is.”

With that, Eduardo looked down at the pile of shoes in the entryway, took off his own, and padded down the hallway to what looked like the dining room, self-consciously trying to be the least self-conscious as he could. 

When walked into the dining room, he could theoretically, see that there were about 5 people helping to set the table and waiting for dinner. 

But in that moment there was only one person that Eduardo saw, and then his mind went utterly blank.

“ _Mark?”_ he asked, without knowing the word was coming out of his mouth.

Mark. Fucking. Zuckerberg. Out of seven billion people on the planet, Mark Zuckerberg was _here_ , sitting at _this_ dining room table. And he was wearing a _hoodie_ , for God’s sake. To what was so clearly not a hoodie situation. And he was staring blankly at Eduardo.

“Eduardo! What a coincidence!” replied Mrs. Zuckerberg. Eduardo, somewhat reluctantly, pried his eyes from Mark to his mother sitting in the chair next to him. “It’s been practically _forever.”_

“Hello Mrs. Zuckerberg. Yes, it really has.”

“Please, I told you to call me Karen.”

Eduardo responded with a small smile and nod. He looked back at Mark, who was still looking at him.  
“Eduardo.” Mark said curtly, in acknowledgement.

Before Eduardo had to make a reply, Esther burst in with a big pan of roasted asparagus.

“Oh my goodness!” Esther cried as she put the pan down in the middle of the table. Do you all know each other? What a small world!”

“Mark and Eduardo went to school together.” Mrs. Zuckerberg explained.

“Oh so you went to _Harvard_ then? That’s very good, such a good school, a fine education. Oh, why should I be surprised, I knew you were a respectable young man. A man your age who dresses like that? I should have known.” She put a hand on the top of Mark’s shoulder where he sat at the table. “I’ve been telling _this_ young man —”

“Yes, Aunty Esther, you’ve said.” retorted Mark. 

“Well I’ve said it because it’s true.” said Esther. Then she told Eduardo, “Well don’t just stand there, come sit. Dinner is about to start.”

Eduardo realized how awkward it was that he’d been standing the whole time, and took the closest seat, across from Mark and Mrs. Zuckerberg. 

A big older man who Eduardo assumed is norm entered the room with a tray full of bowls of soup, and this seemed to officially signal the start of dinner. Esther finally sat down long enough to eat her soup and to introduce Eduardo to everyone and tell the whole table the story of how she had found Eduardo at synagogue like a lost puppy and saved him from the horror’s of eating dinner alone at his hotel. 

Overall, dinner is less awkward than Eduardo had initially anticipated and then feared when he saw Mark. Esther, Mrs. Zuckerberg, and the other guests were good conversationalists, and Eduardo had enough well-rehearsed anecdotes about working in tech consulting in Singapore to keep everyone entertained. He fielded the usual questions (“Is it true that chewing gum is really illegal?) with an ease that surprised even him. Mark, for his part, didn’t say a single word throughout dinner, though he did answer some of Esther’s rhetorical questions in the more dramatic parts of her stories with a nod. Eduardo tried to keep himself from glancing in Mark’s direction every couple of seconds. Problem was, every time Eduardo glanced over, Mark was looking back. 

“So Eduardo,” drawled Esther, after most of dinner had been put away and everyone was enjoying a bottle of port. “A nice young man like you... with _such_ a good Harvard education, and _such_ a great job, and an _international lifestyle_ , there _must_ be a lucky lady, yes?”

Eduardo blushed.

“Because if there isn’t, you should know that Mark has an _extremely successful_ younger sister who is currently single, so I hear.”

“Esther!” cried Mrs. Zuckerberg. “Don’t embarrass the man. And Randi can get her own dates without your meddling.”

“I’m not meddling! I am just _asking_ and _informing_.”

Eduardo looked at Mark, but this time, Mark’s eyes were squarely back on the napkin in his lap. 

“Well,” said Eduardo, leaning back and trying to look as nonchalant as possible. “No, um, actually… actually I’m gay.” Eduardo could have sworn he thought this would get easier over time. “I don’t have a boyfriend, though.”

Mark’s face snaps up to meet Eduardo’s eyes. 

“Oh!” Esther exclaimed. “Well, you should know that that is perfectly alright here. Right Norm?” she jabbed Norm in the chair next to her, who had drifted off into a day-dream or a dream dream, it was impossible to tell. 

“What’s alright?” Norm snorted as he quickly came to.

“Eduardo,” said Esther loudly to her husband, exaggerating her syllabes. “Eduardo is...gay. And I was telling him that’s alright here. That _we_ are supportive of gay issues.”

“Ah yes.” replied Norm, “Uh… we support the LGBT. Marriage equality, and all that.”

Eduardo, just happy that it didn’t go any worse than that, gave a thankful nod. “That’s good to hear.” There was a pause in the dinner table conversation.

That is, until Mark stood up and interjected, “Excuse me, but I have some urgent work business I need to attend to. Sorry.” He pushed his chair and disappeared into the kitchen. 

“I wonder what that could be,” Esther said, watching him pad out of the room. 

Mrs. Zuckerberg took a sip of her port and said lightly, “Mark often has to deal with urgent security leaks and things like that.” She chuckled. “I don’t understand it all.”

With that, the conversation moved on to the magic and confusion of modern technology, in which one of the other guests tried to convince Esther that she needed to get an iPhone and she repeatedly refused. (“Why not?” “Because I’m _stubborn_ , that’s why.”) 

As things were winding down and everyone was bringing the plates and bowls back into the kitchen, Eduardo insisted that Esther must let him help with the dishes, as a thank you. 

“I don’t want to saddle you with all the washing up, dear.” said Esther. 

“Well how about the boys handle the kitchen together?” suggested Mrs. Zuckerberg, gesturing towards Mark who was sitting on a stool at the kitchen counter, hunched over his laptop. It was funny. Mark and Eduardo were two of the 10 richest people under 40 in the world but here they were still “the boys.”

“That is,” Mrs. Z continued, “If you’re done with your work business, Mark.” Her tone was heavy laden with implication.

Mark looked up at his mother, and then at Eduardo. He was nibbling on his bottom lip like he was thinking. “The rest can wait, I guess.”

And so as the rest of the group made their way into the card room for some espresso and conversation, Eduardo began rinsing off the dishes and loading them in the dishwasher. Mark didn’t move from his spot at the counter, but went back to hunching over his computer screen. Eduardo couldn’t hear him typing anything, though, so he didn’t know if Mark was actually doing any work or just staring at it. The only sounds were the rushing of the tap, the gentle clinks of the dishes, and the soft sounds of laughter from the other room. Eduardo tried focus on loading the dishes in the most efficient manner possible rather than speculate what was going on Mark’s head. Was Mark going to help? Or was he going to ignore him the whole time? Did Mark actually hate doing dishes that much, or was he just feeling awkward about coming over and breaking this delicate balance they had going on right now? 

Mark got off his stool, and Eduardo saw from his peripheral vision that Mark was disappearing into the dining room. So he was running away? But he left his laptop? 

But as soon as Eduardo had the thought, Mark came back into the kitchen with more dishes from the dining room and put them on the counter by Eduardo. Without saying a word, he stayed next to Eduardo, leaning against the counter and passing him dishes when he needed them. Eduardo’s breath, which had caught in his chest, slowly started to even out as they found another awkward, clumsy, rhythm. He didn’t want to be the first one to break the silence. But he also didn’t want Mark to be the one who broke the silence either. 

When the dishwasher was loaded, Eduardo was about to go into the other room to ask Esther for the dishwashing liquid, when he saw Mark reach into a cabinet, take out a dishwashing pod, and pop it into the machine. Eduardo was utterly shocked to see how familiar Mark was with this woman’s kitchen. 

Mark gestured at the rest of the pots, pans, and bowls that were too big to fit in the dishwasher. “I’ll wash if you dry and put away.”

The sudden sound of Mark’s voice scared them both a bit. Mark still wouldn’t look at Eduardo. Eduardo paused.  
“I don’t know where things go.”

“I’ll tell you.”

“Wouldn’t it make more sense if I washed and —”

“You’re the special guest.” said Mark, definitively, starting to wash a bowl in the sink like that was part of the answer to Eduardo’s question.

Eduardo snagged a dish towel off of the oven handle where it was hanging and joined Mark by the sink. 

“Since when do you —” he started to ask Mark, not even knowing what the end of the question was. _Wash dishes? Go to dinner parties when it’s not with clients?_ He didn’t finish it, but Mark seemed to understand. 

“I have this ‘nice Jewish boy’ switch that I turn on for stuff like this.” Mark said dryly.

Eduardo thought that that was funny but he restrained his smile. There was an opening here. 

“It’s called a ‘respectful’ switch and it should be on all the time.” he said. He saw Mark grimace a bit, and realized that it came out more like a lecture than he’d intended. 

There was a long silence as Mark finished washing the bowl, handed it to Eduardo, and Eduardo dried it. Then Eduardo stopped and took a breath. 

“Where?” he asked.

Mark pointed to a cabinet and hummed. 

This process repeated for a while, until Mark handed him a pan, made eye contact, and said “Eduardo —” like the was trying to start a capital “C” Conversation. Maybe _the_ capital “C” Conversation. 

“Mark.” Eduardo replied, averting his eyes, letting out a bit of air as he said it and shaking his head as if to say _“No.”_

When Eduardo looked up again, Mark was looking at the wall across from the sink with a bit of surprise. He was probably not expecting Eduardo to say no to him, Eduardo thought pessimistically. 

Instead of pushing it, Mark changed the subject.

“I can’t believe you went to Rosh Hashanah services voluntarily.”

Eduardo knew he meant it as a joking comment to clear the air, but coming out of his mouth it sounded like criticism. 

“I don’t know, it was nice,” he replied, trying not to sound defensive. He paused as he put away another pan. “That stuff about the New Year, and starting over…”

“It’s just a bunch of made up crap.”

Eduardo thought about the warmth of Esther’s smile when she spontaneously invited him into her home.  
  
“You can’t possibly believe that.”  
  
“All of his ‘Gates of Heaven being open’ stuff.” Mark gestured vaguely with his sponge. “Why do I need religion telling me when to think about certain things, and do certain things. I get it, say you’re sorry. Why do you need a holiday for that?”

At that, a spike of anger tore through Eduardo’s chest and then pooled in his stomach. It almost made him want to laugh. He paused so he could give a measured response. 

“I think…” He took a deep breath. “I think everyone could use a time set out to reflect and think about forgiveness, and empathy, and other people…” He took another breath, let it out slowly, and in a quiet voice, asked: “How could you possibly think you’re exempt from that?”

That shut Mark up. He stood completely still, and then returned to washing the soup pot. 

Another few minutes passed but Eduardo wasn’t counting. He was trying to focus on the rhythm of drying off the dishes. 

When they were almost finished, Mark spoke again:

“My mom wants you to go to services with her tomorrow morning at Romemu”

“Oh?”

“It’s different than the place you were with Esther, there’s a lot of musical instrument performances and stuff. She likes that.”

Without really thinking, Eduardo asks, “Are you planning on going?”

They made sustained eye contact for the first time that night, Mark looking at him with surprise for even asking. It was unbearable. 

“No, probably not.”

**Author's Note:**

> Rosh Hashanah: One of the Jewish New Years! (When the calendar restarts). It is a festive holiday! It involves prayer (the first service that Eduardo walks into is at night because Jewish holidays start at sundown, and then there is a morning service the next day, and some synagogues do another morning service the day after that) and eating food like apples and honey to celebrate a sweet New Year, and also fish heads for some reason? 
> 
> Chag Sameach: "Happy Holidays" in Hebrew. 
> 
> Kugel: Kugel is an Eastern European noodle casserole which can be made sweet or savory. It was implied that Mrs. Z was bringing a sweet noodle kugel.
> 
> That's all I can think of for now! If you have any comments/questions please leave them below!


End file.
